


The Depths of You

by flecksofpoppy



Series: Poppy's Adventures in Night Ficcing [28]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Experimentation, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:11:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco has something new he wants to try with Jean, and finds that there are still layers to his partner that he didn't know existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Depths of You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon on tumblr! Prompt was: "Not sure if you still need prompts, but I always appreciate well-written rimming in my smut fics. I'd love to have someone come just from that. ... if that's your thing at all, that is."

When Marco said he wanted to try something new, it was in a moment of post-coital repose. He’d been stroking Jean’s hair, running his fingers through the long parts and then down the pleasant texture of an undercut, when he’d blurted out lazily, “I have an idea.”

Jean, half-asleep and in his typical fucked out state, had just mumbled— _sure, whatever you want, Marcooo_ —drawing the last vowel of Marco’s name out in a silly way that always made Marco’s heart beat a little faster.

He’s also relatively sure that Jean knows this about him, since it’s now a custom for Jean to press his cheek against Marco’s chest after sex, curled close as Marco strokes his hair. He can doubtlessly hear the racing heartbeat.

“I want to, um…”

The hesitation gets Jean’s attention, and he finally pulls away, blinking sleepily up at his partner of two years. “Uh huh?” he asks dazedly, making a valiant effort to pay attention, although it’s obvious he’s curious despite his sleepiness.

Marco knows he’s blushing relatively fiercely now. The thing is, he has a thing he likes; it’s a _thing_ he hasn’t done with Jean, but he has done it with past partners. It’s a thing he _really_ likes doing to other people, and he especially has wanted to do it to Jean.

But given the fact that Jean had been unexpectedly mortified the first time Marco ever wanted to play with his ass and give him a thorough prostate massage with a few fingers he’d backed off and taken it slow.

“I want to rim you.”

The again, there’s no point in beating around the bush, and Marco prides himself on his honesty with Jean.

“You…” Jean’s tensed up, his eyes wide now as he stares up at Marco, awake and alert. “Um… but…”

“I mean,” Marco says, reaching out to trace Jean’s cheekbone with his thumb tenderly, reassuring and affectionate, “it’s okay if you don’t to, obviously.”

_“Why?”_

Marco laughs a little, bemused at the absolutely scandalized look on Jean’s face.

“Why what?” he replies, raising an eyebrow.

“Why would you… want your mouth to…” Jean looks downright mortified, and Marco bends forward to kiss him. It’s not condescending or amused, so much as warm. Jean—as he always does—melts into it, melts against Marco.

“I want you to feel good,” Marco answers quietly when they part, kissing Jean’s hair. “And I like doing it. It’s underrated, I promise.”

Jean laughs wryly, nervously; but he’s not saying no.

“Okay,” he finally replies, hiding his face against Marco’s chest in that way he only ever does in bed, behind the closed door, showing his vulnerability.

“When you’re ready,” Marco states decisively, pulling Jean close.

They fall asleep in a mound of sheets and sunlight slowly starting to spill into the room; it’s only a few hours until Jean needs to get up, but the one person he’s always happy to wake up early for is Marco.

* * *

It’s a month later, when Jean has Marco pressed against the wall of his apartment, that Marco has long accepted that it’s not going to happen. Not that he minds, since he’s far too distracted by Jean’s _everything_ to feel actual disappointment.

They’re kissing fiercely, hands exploring each other’s bodies as if it’s totally new, lips feverishly kissing down any inch of exposed skin, teeth nipping, and Marco feels like he’s floating on a cloud that it’s still _this good_ years later.

“I was thinking about what you said,” Jean breathes suddenly, grabbing Marco’s shoulders and holding him in place.

Marco, panting, is a little confused and distracted; so he just stares. “What?”

Jean smiles a little—that soft look that only Marco ever sees—and he snorts slightly. “The thing about… rimming.”

“Oh!”

“I can’t do it.”

“Oh.” Marco just nods a little, not seeing the big deal; sure, he likes it, but it’s not that important. “Okay.”

“I want to… um…” he stammers, staring down suddenly and not meeting Marco’s eyes. He restarts and bites his lip. “I did some research, and I just…”

“It’s totally fine, Jean,” Marco insists, nuzzling Jean’s jaw affectionately. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I want to do it to you instead,” comes the blurted confession, followed by an unmistakable heat in Jean’s cheeks.

Marco pulls back, eyes wide and hands frozen from where he was in the process of undoing Jean’s pants. “You do?” he practically squeaks, and then feels like an idiot.

Jean smiles a little, obviously pleased that he’s taken Marco off guard, and he nods. “I uh… I have a dental dam. So…”

Marco swallows hard. He’s never actually had anyone do it to him, but Jeans just turned the tables.

“Are you sure?” he asks hesitantly, raising an eyebrow.

“Really sure.”

Marco suddenly feels very vulnerable, but then Jean slides gentle fingers up his neck, into his hair, and strokes. “I think it’ll be really hot,” he whispers, his voice confident.

“Fuck,” Marco exhales hard, his eyes slipping shut as Jean takes control.

“You’re so hot,” Jean murmurs as he kisses up Marco’s jaw, “when you curse.”

* * *

When Jean and Marco first kissed, it was rather chaste. They’d been friends for years, and one night at a movie, sharing popcorn and fighting over Twizzlers, Jean had simply leaned over and pushed his nose against Marco’s cheek.

Marco had responded in kind, kissed him on the mouth, and then they’d just sat shock still, staring at the screen. Neither one of them remembered the movie, but they did remember making out wildly in the car, unleashing years of pent up tension that neither one of them had really understood.

But after that, Marco always took the lead, always the one to hold Jean’s hand, to kiss him; eventually, Jean got used to taking the initiative, but he was never dominant. Marco had always wondered, though, if he wanted to be.

_Smack._

“Fuck,” Marco cries as Jean slaps his ass, chest pressed against the bed with his hips in the air.

“Let me hear you,” Jean growls, pressing a kiss against Marco’s bare skin.

“I want you,” Marco slurs, pressing his cheek against Jean’s sheets, his eyes fluttering shut.

It’s been six months since the dental damn confession.

It’s been six months of Marco learning a lot about his best friend, and what he really likes and wants.

Marco has learned several important facts.

“Fuck!” he screams again as Jean leans forward and Marco feels a blissful sensation between his buttocks.

(1. Jean has a talented tongue.)

Lube, a careful fist pumping his cock, and _oh god he’s going to come embarrassingly soon…_

(2. Jean has always given an amazing hand job; it’s even better when being eaten out.)

“C’mon, Marco,” comes the purr, “come for me.”

(3. Jean likes dirty talk.)

He lets go of Marco’s cock which earns a tortured wail, but it’s clear what he wants to happen; he wants Marco to come from just rimming alone.

Jean is a perfectionist once he sets his mind to something. The first time he rimmed Marco, it’d been good, but experimental.

Then, he got really good at it, and Marco feels like he’s being disassembled as he cries out and groans, curses and spits Jean’s name, all while that devilish tongue is working his hole through the latex like there’s no fucking tomorrow.

He comes explosively, screaming, sometimes even with tears as Jean coaxes him along—this time is no exception—and then Jean is there, holding him, pulling him close as Marco shudders with the stimulation.

Marco pushes his face against Jean’s chest, and now he hears Jean’s heart hammering; it makes him smile.

“Your heart is pounding.”

“Way to point it out, asshole,” Jean retorts.

“There’s a joke in there.”

“Shut up,” Jean replies, his voice warm and affectionate. He kisses Marco’s head, lips lingering against hair, and then he reaches down to grab Marco’s hand.

This time, they fall asleep entwined, foreheads pressed together, heartbeats synced.


End file.
